


Laisser Echapper

by TheMightyChipmunk



Series: Reddie Meet-Cute AUs [11]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 09:31:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16060316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyChipmunk/pseuds/TheMightyChipmunk
Summary: Eddie is a Professional Chef. He worked very hard to be so and prides himself on his discipline and accomplishment. But when a bakery opens across the street from his restaurant and starts poaching some of his business? He just HAS to go over and see what all the fuss is about.(enter Richie)(and an existential crisis)





	Laisser Echapper

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy this took me a long time to write

Eddie took another pull on his cigarette and sighed. If stares could kill, the bakery across the street would probably be up in flames right about now and honestly, all of Eddie’s worries would go up in flames with it. He allowed himself one self-indulgent moment to bask in that fantasy, but alas. When he opened his eyes, it was still there, bright pink awning covers and all.

 

“Merde.” Eddie muttered under his breath, leaning back against the brick wall of his restaurant.

 

Eddie blamed his generation. He loved being a millennial, honest, he did. He wasn’t one of those self-hating parts of his generation. He thought they were all kind of in a shitty situation, thanks to people like his Mother, but they were doing the best they could. Millenials are broken and screwed but passionate and revolutionary. Eddie was proud to be a millennial.

 

But what the _fuck_ was everyone’s obsession with brunch? Why was his extremely successful restaurant not “really a force to be reckoned with” if it didn’t have bottomless mimosas and mini waffles? Who the fuck made that rule?

 

Eddie hated brunch. It was kitschy and pandering and … _easy._ Nothing he ever made for brunch challenged him or even interested him at all. In his mind, cooking was deep colors. The burgundy of a Coq au vin, the black of a Périgord truffle, the rich orange and green of his Barigoule of spring vegetables. Not the bright pinks of macarons or the obnoxious yellow of eggs Benedict.

 

Was he pretentious? Yes, of course, he was. Eddie was pretentious as fuck when it came to cooking and he admitted it and he liked it like that. He was trained at Alain Ducasse’s Centre de Formation for fuck’s sake. He was allowed to hold his cooking to a little bit of a higher standard. He’d earned that, he thought.

 

Brunch is a portmanteau for God’s sake! What is classy about a portmanteau?!

 

Anyway, when Stan, his general manager and best friend, had come to him about 4 months ago and told him they should start a brunch, he hadn’t fussed _too_ much. Mostly because 1) he trusted Stan unequivocally and 2) brunch would be easy. Like below his level of skill easy. They would blow it out of the water.

 

And they did! The first two months were _popping._ They always had a wait-list for the areas they reserved and there was always a line out the door for walk-in seating. It was awesome. Eddie didn’t personally care so much about the money, but he had been able to give a lot of their veteran staff members a bit of a raise and things were looking… really good.

 

And then two months in. There was an empty table. Eddie had walked out of the kitchen to check on process and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the empty table in the back corner.

 

“Patty?” He asked, stopping his head server as she walked by him. “What is that?” He pointed and she laughed.

 

“That’s an empty table boss. I know you’ve probably never seen one in your business before, but it happens to the best of us.” She teased and Eddie rolled his eyes.

 

“Slow day?” He asked tentatively. She nodded and shifted the menus she was holding to her other arm.

 

“Yeah, that new place had its grand opening today too, so that’s probably what it was. It’ll wear off soon and we’ll be back to maximum capacity. I promise.” She said with a wink before walking off to the back. He sighed and nodded, comforted by her words.

 

Even if they were a blatant and vicious lie. Apparently the charm of the bakery across the street was not wearing off for the brunch-loving assholes who lived in this God-Forsaken town. They were stealing his business left and right and it was really putting a dent in Eddie’s day. He didn’t even _like_ Brunch, why did it have to stress him out so much?

 

So Eddie glared at the bakery and hoped that would be enough to figure out what they were doing better. But what else could he do? It’s not like he could _go there_ and _eat food._

 

Well… actually. Yeah. He could. Eddie took one last long pull of his cigarette and then pushed himself off the wall, steeling himself to go do some recon.

 

Eddie in spite of himself, breathed a sigh of relief when he walked through the front doors. It wasn’t too busy, the morning rush definitely had died down to a gentle murmur. It was completely and utterly welcoming, and Eddie had no idea how he’d been here for 2 seconds and already tricked into loving it.

 

It almost looked like something a grandma had decorated, but not in a bad way. It was just a lot of patterns, most of them floral. It was a large space, but still had the vibe of something homey and intimate. There was a section for seating, where you could have a server, and also a counter with a large display of pastries if you wanted to walk up and order.

 

“Hi, welcome to Easy Bake,” the girl at the register said with a wide smile and a gentle huff, “Sorry for the wait, we just finished our rush.” she explained, even though Eddie had only been looking at the menu for maybe 20 seconds before she walked over to help him. Eddie mustered a smile a shook his head.

 

“No worries. I totally understand.” he said, making the girl, Sadie, her name tag said, grin again.

 

“What can I get you today?” she prompted and Eddie blew out a heavy breath as he stared up at the menu again.

 

“Um, I’m not sure. You guys have… a lot of options.” Eddie admitted. Sadie smiled and nodded.

 

“We do. Were you looking for something breakfast or lunch? Sweet? Savory? Filling? Light?” Sadie asked and Eddie just chuckled and shrugged. Honestly he wasn’t that hungry. Smoking did that to him.

 

“I don’t know, I’m sorry. Hey, how about you bring me the chef’s recommendation?” If places like this had chefs? Sadie just smiled genuinely and nodded.

 

“Yeah, okay. Richie will love that. In that case, grab a table and we’ll bring you your check at the end of the meal, yeah?”

 

“Sounds good.” Eddie said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and strolling to grab a booth by the window. He stared at the people walking by for a moment, tapping his leg before his phone vibrated. He pulled it out to check and of course it was Stan, checking up on him.

 

Eddie hadn’t been… nice, exactly, when Stan had sent him home for the day, telling him to give the team space to clean up and prep for dinner. He’d wanted to stay, to work and work until he forgot exactly why he was stressed, but Stan knew him. He could sense Eddie’s anxiety from a mile away and told him to go home and rest. Eddie might have pouted a bit, but… yeah. Stan was used to that too. Eddie shot him a quick message in apology, saying he would make it up to him by making dinner later.

 

Eddie looked up when he saw someone approaching out of the corner of his eye, and he saw a giant plate of food held by a giant mess of a man.

 

“Umm, I don’t think that’s for me.” Eddie stammered as the man started placing plates on his table. He looked up at Eddie with a shy smirk and shrugged.

 

“You’re the very open ended order? _Chef’s Choice_? Right?” he asked and Eddie slowly nodded. “Well, that’s me. I am the chef and… I couldn’t decide. Couldn’t make a choice.” he laughed as he placed the last plate, one with what looked to be a variety of eclairs.

 

“This is very…” He couldn’t pick an adjective. Charming? Surprising? Unprofessional? Adorable as fuck?

 

“Oh! You don’t have to pay for it all, oh _my_ , I swear that is not what I’m trying to do. I just… I really couldn’t decide. But I got really excited by the proposition so I just brought out all my favorites. You can just… pick the best one and that’s what we’ll charge you for. I promise…” he said in a ramble, running his hand through those loose curls at least three times. The two of them just stared at each other for a moment. Eddie didn’t really know what to say. “It’s… okay, right?” he asked, nervously. God he was cute, with wide eyes that would have been criminal but were covered by giant-dorky glasses, an easy smile, and unbelievably long legs.

 

Eddie forced himself to stop checking him out and to instead look down at the array of plates, the macarons and eclairs and eggs benedict and slices of breakfast sandwiches and eventually smiled.

 

“Yes, of course. Thank you so much. Umm… do you wanna tell me what each one is? I don’t even know where to start.” Eddie admitted. The boy breathed a sigh of relief and slid into the booth opposite Eddie. He looked down for a long moment before shaking his head and looking up nervously.

 

"Shit, this would be way less nerve-wracking if you weren't so goddamn cute." he sighed and Eddie barked out a laugh, surprised by the flirting. "Don't mock me. This is serious." He said with a soft smile before starting back down at the plates again. After a moment he hummed in approval and slid the plate of eclairs in front of Eddie.

 

“Here. Start with these. The flavors are something I’ve been tinkering with for a while. I should let you know, I’m actually the baker? Not the chef. That’s Bev’s job, but she left early today because our produce guy, Mike, wanted her to come pick up this big shipment of strawberries. Anyway, these are eclairs. As you can tell. In order of left to right they are: strawberry & rum, chocolate espresso, and milk and honey.” Eddie looked down and chose the one on the right, the stickiest looking one.

 

“Oh! Milk and honey. Good choice. I hope you like it, that one is… _probably_ my favorite. I mean, I don’t want to toot my own horn, but it is my own creation. And a best-seller here. I used to always hear the phrase _milk and honey_ at church and I didn’t think anything of it and then one day when I was back home for Christmas at my mom’s and I heard them say it I stopped and thought: I wonder what milk and honey like, actually tastes like together. Because the Bible makes it seem bomb as fuck, so...” the boy said, still definitely rambling. He was constantly either fiddling with the order of the plates or staring at Eddie with rapt attention and it was kind of giving him whiplash… but he wasn’t complaining. “... anyway, that one, since it’s actually topped with caramel instead of chocolate, wouldn’t be called an _eclair,_ would be called a-”

 

“Bâton de Jacob.” Eddie muttered around his bite of eclair. The boy stopped and stared at him, eyes wide and mouth paused- still open. Eddie didn’t know him that well, but he wasn’t sure this guy ever _closed_ his mouth. “Sorry, um. I’m a bit of a know-it-all sometimes. I didn’t mean to throw you off.” The boy barked out a laugh and shook his head.

 

“No, that’s not, um… you bake?” he asked and Eddie smiled but shook his head.

 

“It’s not my forte. One of my very close friends is a baker though,” His pastry chef, Georgie, “I’ve heard him rant about this kind of thing.” While planning the dessert menu, for the restaurant Eddie **owned**.

 

“Oh, that’s awesome. Wow, hot as hell _and_ you know about baking. This is starting to feel too good to be true.” the boy flirted, grinning wide. Eddie couldn’t help but smile back, only rolling his eyes a little bit. A part of him, distantly in the back of his mind was reminding him that, hey, this is the guy who is hurting your own restaurant’s brunch and HEY this was supposed to be a recon mission, NOT some way for you, Eddie Kaspbrak, to find _another_ boy to crush on.

 

He didn’t really listen to that part of his brain for long.

 

“Well, it's just the occasional fun fact. I couldn't do anything like this." Eddie ... fibbed, a little, gesturing to the arrangement before him. It didn't hurt to compliment the guy, it was an impressive spread. "So, umm…” Eddie left a pause, waiting for the guy to fill in his name. He just stared at him a long time before Eddie raised his eyebrows once and he seemed to catch on, slipping slightly on the elbow that rested on the table.

 

“Oh! Richie. My name is Richie.” Eddie smiled and tried not to laugh.

 

“I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you. So, Richie, how long have you been doing this? Baking?” he asked as he cut into a slice of cinnamon french toast. He tried not to groan as he chewed, but going by the smug look on Richie’s face, he did not succeed.

 

“Professionally? And not just for me and my friends after the munchies hit? Umm.. eight years? Give or take.” Richie shrugged, fiddling with a sugar packet now.

 

“Oh wow,” Eddie said, trying not to look shocked. He looked young, maybe a few years younger than Eddie. 25 maybe? He would’ve started young. Eddie himself had only been actually cooking in a _restaurant_ for three, “Were you trained?”

 

“Oh, extensively,” Richie explained, expression stern, “For a solid 18 years. In my mother’s kitchen.” Eddie choked on his bite of food, caught up in a laugh. That wasn’t what he was expecting, especially after experiencing the caliber of food he was eating. Eddie didn’t really know what to say now though, was it okay to tease him? Honestly, that was all Eddie really knew how to do, so.

 

“Well, is she the one that taught you how to handle flour? Because it looks like you lack a steady hand.” Eddie teased and Richie tilted his head in confusion, looking all too adorable, so Eddie gestured with one finger to all of Richie’s face, hair and black t-shirt, “Um, you’re _covered_ in flour. Did you not notice?” he asked. Richie looked down quickly and then very suddenly became tinged pink.

 

“Oh _shitfuck_ , no, I didn’t,” he said, brushing the powder of his shirt in jerky movements, tugging the fabric taut across his broad shoulders. Eddie sat back and ate a spoonful of his oatmeal, enjoying the view, “I, um… I don’t really have a good excuse? I really just am a baker who is… a klutz.” he shrugged and leaned against the table again, closer to Eddie. Richie smiled, soft and shy, and Eddie stared before leaning in and wiping a bit of flour off right about his eyebrow.

 

“You had just a little still…” Eddie started, trailing off his words as his hand lingered on an all-too-well-defined cheekbone. Richie leaned in closer, smile growing slowly. Eddie almost, _almost_ leaned in too, before clearing his throat and moving back quickly, shaking his head.

 

“Umm, anyway. So, that was the one habit she couldn’t drill out of you?” Eddie asked, sounding more breathless than he would later admit. Richie bit his lip and nodded.

 

“Unfortunately. God, I remember this one day, the two of us were trying to make homemade spaghetti noodles. Well, she was trying to teach me how to make homemade spaghetti noodles, and at one point my cat was on a personal mission to ruin my life, and so when I was grabbing the eggs from the fridge I was trying _really_ hard not to trip. And I was so tense that when I set them down on the counter, when I had made it successfully, I breathed this sigh of relief, relaxed against the counter, and my elbow slipped against the open bag of flour, causing it to spill all over _me and_ the floor.” Eddie’s jaw dropped because _fuck_ . His mom would’ve _killed_ him.

 

“Shit. She must’ve been pissed.” Eddie snorted and Richie just laughed, shaking his head.

 

“Nah, I think she laughed at me for like fifteen minutes before stealing my sister’s Polaroid camera to document it. I mean, me and the cat were coated in flour, like I don’t know much about physics? But it should not have been possible. Anyway, she made me clean it up, obviously, and then she turned on The Beach Boys like she always did and she taught me and Rachel how to make our own pasta. It was actually a really fun day.” Richie explained with a fond smile. Eddie felt his own stomach start to turn even as he was endeared by how happy the memory obviously made Richie.

 

“Oh?” he asked, not really knowing what else to say. He couldn’t commiserate on those feelings. He couldn’t sympathize or offer a story of his own. Being in the kitchen with his mom had _never_ been like that. If Eddie had made a mistake even half that size, there would be emotional and sometimes physical hell to pay.

 

“Yeah. I really got into baking because of her, you know? When I was really little I _always_ wanted to help her make the Thanksgiving pies. And then there were bake sales and birthdays and block parties and I just remember seeing my mom in the kitchen and like… I know my memory is glorified and tilted by the bias of a 9-year-old kid, but she was glowing, you know? And I wanted to be a part of something that made her that happy. And I was good at it, eventually, and I never really stopped. Now, when I bake… I feel like I bring her with me everywhere I go, you know?”

 

_No._

 

Eddie sort of felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. Richie was so… sweet. So sweet and so fucking lucky, talking about everything he had that Eddie _did not_ . He could not, absolutely could _not relate_. Cooking with his mom made him think of bruises on his wrists from wooden spoons, aching feet, burnt fingers, and sweaty brows. He didn’t make mistakes, he didn’t laugh, and he sure as hell didn’t remember it with that fond, adorable, heart-warming smile. And he didn’t bring his mother with him, GOD no. EVerything he did was an attempt to distance himself from her. He smoked, he dyed his hair blonde, he lived in Los Angeles, he fucked guys, he got his apron dirty, and he didn’t ever think about his mother.

 

And he wasn’t ashamed of who he was. He was proud of everything he had accomplished in his life, even if it was all in spite of his mother. But… _fuck_ he was jealous. Jesus Christ, how toxic was he? That everything he did was built on this foundation of hatred and… anger. That’s why he couldn’t make himself LIKE brunch, because it was fun and new and not something within his very set boundaries of control. He needed that control, he needed it because if he didn’t have it someone else would, someone like his _mother_ and OH GOD he was spiralling.

 

He was spiralling in the middle of this adorable bakery, across the booth from a really adorable baker and he couldn’t stop it.

 

“Umm, yeah. Sure.” Eddie choked out, before jerkily sliding out of the booth. Richie shot up with him, a concerned look on his face.

 

“Oh, are you okay? Did I say something wrong? I…”

 

“No! No,” Eddie insisted as he pulled out his wallet and dropped various bills onto the counter, “It’s not you, I just… forgot that I… need to… not be… here. _I’m so sorry_.” Eddie rushed out, pushing past Richie as his head began to spin and tears burned in his eyes. He heard Richie yelling behind him, but Eddie just kept moving, crossing the street quickly.

 

He slipped into the back alley by default, not really paying attention to where he was going as he followed basic instinct and unlocked the back door to the restaurant. He stumbled down the hallway, past Stan’s office doors, and in to the kitchen. Luckily, it was empty. Everyone was either off or taking a break before the dinner rush began.

 

Eddie went to his station and rested his hands on the cool steel, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He tried some breathing exercises for a moment, but groaned loudly because it _wasn’t working_. He eventually just sighed and pushed up definitively because, what did he always do when he was stressed or sad? Something routine and easy, something that would get him in the flow of anything. Sometimes it was cleaning, masturbating, drawing, running, but most of the time: it was cooking.

 

So, he grabbed a pan, threw it on the grill, and then went to grab some ingredients to make a simple stir-fry. However, when he went to grab the sherry, which he spotted at Georgie’s station, earlier, he tripped suddenly when he got to close, banging the shelf just slightly, he swore, and-

 

“ _Fuck!_ ” Eddie shouted, staring in shock at the coating of white powder on the front of his henley. He’d jostled an _open bowl of flour_ that was sitting on the shelf, and now…

 

Now he was 100% back to thinking about Richie and his perfect fucking childhood.

 

“What’s wrong?” Eddie heard Stan shout, make Eddie step back in surprise because he didn’t even know anyone else was here. Stan and Patty rounded the corner, obviously coming from Stan’s office in the back. Eddie stared at them, hands out in front of himself, covered in flour.

 

“Shit, Eds. You’re…”

“Totally covered in flour, like an insane person.” Stan finished for Patty, the beginnings of a grin tugging at his lips. Eddie wanted to laugh too for one, glorious second, before he felt his bottom lip quiver and then he choked on a broken sob. Patty gasped and made a move to step towards him but Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

 

“I can’t do this. I _can’t_ . Holy fuck! FLOUR! Of course I spilled the **_flour_ ** !” Eddie yelled, obviously making no sense to Stan and Patty, who were staring at his outburst with wide eyes, “OH you guys, I’m sorry, it’s just… my mind is going a mile a minute and did you know I had a panic attack at university the first time someone spilled on me? Balsamic vinegar all over my white sleeve and I freaked the fuck out! People stared at me weird for months! Because my mom would _not_ have laughed! _Laughed_ ? HA! She would’ve... It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t _matter_ how far I push myself away from her, she’s still _there_ , in the back of my mind, in the core of who I am and that isn’t _fair_!

 

“And… maybe I’ll _never_ be able to do this profession without, without her showing up at every turn! Figuratively, I mean, the restraining order is still there, but figuratively her hand is always in this. My being a chef professionally was supposed to be my _own_ thing because I am good at it, _so_ good at it, and I love it but is it still… giving in to her? Just, fucking shitting FUCK I thought I could reclaim it, you know? And, and, and make it _mine for once_ , but maybe that’s just fucking wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t be doing _this_. Maybe this isn’t right. Maybe this isn’t where I should be. Maybe I’m...  maybe I’m too fucked up for this.”

 

Eddie sat on the ground, his head between his legs and _tried_ to stop crying but _he just couldn’t._ He was working himself up and making it worse and worse, and boy, he suddenly realized that this was a _long time_ coming, and the fact that Patty and Stan were here to watch him finally crumble just made it so much worse- until.

 

Stan’s hands came down around Eddie’s shoulders and pulled him to lean against his chest.

 

“Don’t say stuff like that Eddie. You know you love cooking, it’s your passion. I’ve seen you, it’s-”

 

“But that’s not it, Stan. It’s the principle of the thing! It’s a toxic foundation, something my mother forced me to do, you know? I’ll never… I don’t have those nice, fond, _healthy_ memories to look back on. Not like Richie… I. Was this even ever what I wanted to do? Was it just something else she forced on me?” Stan’s arms tensed for a moment before he sighed.

 

“That’s not true, Ed.” Stan whispered, shaking his shoulders slightly. “You have good memories too.” Eddie scoffed on instinct, mind instantly conjuring up images of his mom slapping his wrist, scolding his technique, his classmates judging him silently and his professors and critics doing it much louder. He remembers coming home and making instant noodles because the thought of mixing any more ingredients made his stomach drop.

 

“Remember that time in the eleventh grade? We were supposed to take a day trip to the coast when you finally got your license? But your mom flipped out and said we couldn’t?”

 

“ _Why_ would you bring that up right now?” Eddie whined. He remembered that, remembered loving how free driving had made feel, remembered being so happy that he _finally_ had even a _modicum_ of freedom. And then of course, she had taken that away too.

 

“Remember what we did instead? You came to my house and my mom taught us both how to make challah bread?” Eddie choked on laughter despite the tears.

 

“Oh my God, _yes._ You were so bad at it.” Eddie grinned, shaking his head. “It was just coiling dough and you _could not_ do it.”

 

“Ma was so happy she finally had someone with talent in her kitchen.” Stan mused with a soft smile.

 

“Or remember that time,” Patty cut in, gingerly sitting next to Eddie and taking one of his hands into her lap, “when Stan and I had only been dating for like… three months? And he got a really bad cold and you came over and taught me how to make matzo ball soup?”

 

“That was the first time we ever really hung out.” Eddie whispered and Patty grinned, nodding.

 

“You made me laugh so hard, that day, I smile whenever Stan makes that soup now. And you were just so _alive._ I’d always hated cooking with my mom because she made me feel like I was too slow or not doing it right, but you were such a good teacher. You really wanted me to see how much there was to enjoy.” Patty squeezed his hand tighter and brought it too her lips and Eddie smiled, choking out a laugh.

 

“Or that time senior year when I was stressed about choosing where to go to college and you spent like… a whole day making me taste test different grilled cheese recipes until you made the best one.” Stan laughed.

 

“Your favorite was sourdough, cheddar, and peach jelly. Which was stupid and wrong but you loved it.” Eddie said, crying for a whole new reason now. “I think I spent my entire allowance on extra ingredients. But… it made you smile and, god you were so stressed, I don’t think you’d laughed in a week. It was worth it.” Eddie whispered at the end and Stan kissed his forehead.

 

“It meant so much to me. And it was… you using what makes you happy to try and make me happy. I loved that.” Stan said simply and Eddie felt his heart clench. “Cooking is what makes you happy, Eddie. It’s what you’re good at. Don’t let whatever the hell your mom did fuck that up for you. You deserve… all the good things.”

 

Eddie nodded, looking down at his hands, one tangled up with Patty’s and the other clutching Stan’s arm. He took a deep breath and internalized the words, letting the comfort and calm of his friends wash over him.

 

“Okay. We’re canceling brunch.” Eddie announced loudly and both Stan and Patty cheered, making Eddie laugh as he wiped away his tears. “I hate making eggs and I hate mimosas so… we’re going back to dinner only. We’re going back to what makes me happy.”

 

“That’s great, Eddie!” Patty assured, pulling him up to stand and helping brush the flour off of his … entire body. He’d really sent that bowl flying.

 

“And also…” Eddie started, thinking back to Richie’s wide eyes as Eddie has stormed out, guilt spreading through his stomach, “I’m going to need a reservation for two tomorrow night.”

 

“You will?” Patty asked, and Eddie could see the gears in her head turning.

 

“Yes,” Eddie said definitively, “I’m going to ask someone on a date. An apology date. Right now.” Eddie turned towards the door and was stopped in his stalwart momentum by Stan tugging his arm back.

 

“Ed, I love you and I’m as excited for you to… go get some as I am confused at the sudden tone switch, but maybe ask tomorrow?” Stan offered gently, looking up and down at Eddie’s stained black jeans and grey Henley, “You kind of look like a fucking mess.”

 

“A hot mess!” Patty cut in.

 

“But a mess nonetheless.” Stan teased and Eddie rolled his eyes.

 

“Fine. I’ll ask tomorrow then. When my eyes aren’t puffy from crying.”

 

***

His palms were a little sweaty as he opened the door to Easy Bake. He tried to wipe them off on his jeans as he walked, but it didn’t really help. He was a nervous sweater. It wasn’t cute and usually he was pretty calm but…

 

“Hi, welcome to Easy Bake, what can I- oh.” The boy at the counter looked over at him with wide eyes before holding up a finger, “give me one second, sir.” Eddie opened his mouth to say something but the boy had already disappeared behind the swinging doors that lead to the kitchen in the back. He huffed and fidgeted slightly, looking around the store at the few lingering customers, trying to figure out what just happened.

 

Then, he heard the doors swing open again and he sighed in relief when Richie walked out. He looked adorable flustered, in a pink shirt stained with chocolate and black apron that was about ten times messier. He rubbed a hand through his curls when he saw Eddie and he noticed there was still soap on his hands, some of it sticking in Richie’s hair. He couldn’t help but smile.

 

“Hi,” Richie said, “You came back.”

 

“I did,” Eddie agreed, “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

 

“Oh, no! I was just… helping clean up after the dinner rush while some things are in the oven.” Richie explained, wiping his hands on his apron, looking a lot like Eddie had when he walked in here.

 

“Listen, Rich-”

 

“Eddie, I just wanted to say-”

 

They both started at the same time. Eddie huffed out a laugh and pointed to Richie, indicating he should go first.

 

“I just wanted to apologize.” Richie said in a rush of breath, cheeks tinting pink.

 

“You wanted to apologize to me?” Eddie asked incredulously, because he was pretty sure… if his memory served him correctly, he was the one who stormed out of here like an asshole last time, with not one believable explanation. He was the one who was rude af.

 

“ _Yes_. You may not believe this, but… my friends tell me I have a big mouth… in more ways than one, if you know what I mean.” Richie said with a smirk before shaking his head and cursing under his breath, “God I am so bad at this.” he muttered, making Eddie laugh.

 

“Just keep pushing through, you’ll make it.” Eddie said, biting his lip to stop his smile from growing too wide. Richie rolled his eyes but kept talking.

 

“Anyway, I tend to say… stupid things. Even when I don’t notice it. So, I’m assuming I did that. And I said something so stupid that it made you cr… get up and leave. And I am so sorry, because upsetting you is the _opposite_ of what I want to do. Making you smile was… the best thing. It was just the best thing.” Richie said, eyes wide and vulnerable. Eddie grinned and looked down at this shoes, unbelievably flattered and smitten.

 

“Umm… here.” Eddie said, shoving the reservation tickets into Richie’s hands, “I got these for you.” He actually did force Patty to make them. Obviously you usually don’t need _tickets_ for a _dinner reservation_ but Eddie wanted to hand him something physical. He felt it fit the narrative better.

 

“Holy… _shit_ , Eds, these are like really hard to get. They’re really exclusive. How did you pull this off?” Richie asked, smiling at Eddie like he was the most amazing thing. Eddie shrugged and rocked back on his heels.

 

“Oh, well… I might be the head chef there?” Eddie sheepishly admitted. Richie dropped his jaw in the most uncool of ways.

 

“You’re the… you’re… um… _what? Oh my fucking God,_ I told you my spaghetti story? You’re the head chef of _Laisser Echapper_ and I told you my spaghetti story?” Richie balked and Eddie couldn’t help but giggle, bringing a hand to his mouth to try and stifle it.

 

“Yeah, you did. I liked it, actually. It helped me… realize some things.” Eddie admitted. Richie gave him a questioning look, but Eddie brushed it off. “It’s a long story. But um, yeah, I got you two seats… at the chef’s table, if you’re interested?”

 

“The chef’s table?” Richie asked, sounding almost giddy, before his eyebrows drew together again, “Wait, if you’re the head chef, who is the second seat for?” Eddie blushed and stared resolutely at Richie’s hands, avoiding his gaze.

 

“Um... I thought maybe there might be a … boyfriend? Or girlfriend?” Eddie asked and Richie just shook his head once with a quick laugh.

 

“No, no. None of those.” Richie assured him and Eddie breathed a sigh of relief before grabbing the ticket out of Richie’s hand.

 

“Perfect. I’ll change that to just one then. You’ll only have one seat.” Eddie amended. Richie grinned and narrowed his eyes.

 

“Well, I mean, my friend Ben would _love_ to watch you too-”

 

“No.” Eddie said definitively, “Only you’re invited. I’m gonna be trying pretty hard to impress you so… don’t want anyone else there. Wouldn’t want to accidentally make someone else fall in love with me.” He teased gently. Richie laughed and rolled his eyes dramatically, moving his whole head with it.

 

“God forbid! That is such a good point, Eds.” Richie replied and Eddie was surprised at how not-annoyed he was at the nickname. It kind of made his stomach swoon, almost as much as it did when Richie smiled at him. “You have no idea how much I am looking forward to this.” he said as he held up his one ticket.

 

“I think I have a vague idea.” Eddie admitted, “Well, I better go get planning.” Richie nodded and waved at him as he walked out. He was still watching, leaning over the counter with his chin in the palm of his hands, when Eddie turned around to wave one more time.

  
Oh man, Eddie had a _crush_. And he was going to cook for him.

**Author's Note:**

> I really really hope you guys enjoyed it! Please leave a comment letting me know every single thought you had while reading this. 
> 
> Thanks!! Also, [come say hello to me on tumblr!](http://themightychipmunk.tumblr.com/)!


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